Authors: Edwin Page
I looked to the
left as the sound of a song lifted into the air. My expression became one of
bewilderment as I listened, hearing the man’s voice sing along with Billy Idol
as the tune reached the chorus.
‘Where are we, Mommy?’ whispered Chrissie.
I bent close. ‘We’re in the woods, Honey,’ I replied quietly.
‘But I can hear music.’ Her face became pinched with growing confusion
and she tried to lift her head.
‘It’s coming from the highway.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. Now you just rest up. We’ll be heading off again soon.’
‘Where are we going, Mommy? Is it someplace nice?’ She asked as the
tension faded from her expression and she closed her eyes, sinking back against
the earth. ‘I hope its someplace nice.’
‘We’re going to Montreal, remember?’ I transferred the knife into my left
hand and brushed her cheeks with the backs of my fingers as my eyes glistened.
Her head moved from side to side slowly. ‘I don’t remember. Is Daddy
coming too?’
I tried to retain my self-control, jaw clenching. ‘Yes, he’ll be there
with you,’ I said, voice cracking as I continued to caress her face.
‘And Granny Willis?’ she asked, referring to my mother.
‘Uh-huh,’ I said, unable to bring forth words in response, my body
trembling with the force of the grief that was threatening to overwhelm me as
the music came to an end in the distance.
‘I’ll tell her how much I like Ollie.’ A gentle smile graced her
bloodless lips as the fingers of her right hand became cupped, as if holding
the stuffed toy.
‘Mommy?’ Her expression became thoughtful.
‘Yes, Honey,’ I replied as the man’s voice arose once again, taking no
notice of his brief words as I concentrated on my daughter.
‘You will be there, won’t you?’
I nodded despite the fact her eyes remained closed, choking back the
tide. ‘Yes, I’ll be there soon enough.’
‘Good,’ she sighed, face relaxing.
A few moments passed as I stroked her face and her breathing became
increasingly shallow, the woodland hushed and watchful.
She stiffened suddenly. ‘Mommy?’ she cried weakly, her body then sagging
back against the soil.
‘I’m still here, Honey,’ I replied, my fingers falling still when I
realised she was no longer breathing.
I looked down upon her for a moment and then gathered her frail body into
my arms, holding her close and tight as I rocked on my heels. ‘I’ll be there
soon enough,’ I repeated through my tears.
‘Sooner than you think.’
I was given a start by the man’s voice behind me, feeling a sense of the
familiar.
‘Put your daughter down and slowly turn to face me with your hands where
I can see them.’
I gently lay Chrissie on the barren earth and turned, my arms out to the
sides and knife still gripped in my hand. Before me was the man who’d stolen
the Falcon and then taken the pickup, the rifle he’d also taken now aimed at my
chest as he stood a few yards away.
‘We meet again,’ he sneered as the image of Bob’s body lying beside the
entryway to the gas station arose in my mind.
‘Fuck you!’ I spat, anger beginning to take the place of my sorrow. ‘Why
the hell did you point me out back there?’ I looked at him accusingly.
‘I wasn’t going to risk you causing us any trouble,’ he replied, his long
face darkened by stubble.
I glared him, my fury growing. I’d been stripped of everything I held
dear in a matter of days. The comfortable life that had seemed like it would
never end had been destroyed with the push of a button. Now both my husband and
my daughter had been taken from me, had passed where I had no wish to follow.
The only thing I had left was my life, and I wasn’t going to let it be taken
easily.
The shadow of a bird passing above the trees distracted the man’s gaze
momentarily.
I sprang at him, batting the barrel of the gun aside. The blade of my
knife swung upward, slamming into the underside of his jaw. He opened his mouth
to scream, the bloodied blade visible as it rose from the centre of his tongue.
My free hand quickly clamped over his mouth as he stared at me with wide
eyes and I pushed him backward. His back thumped into a rugged trunk as I
tugged the knife out and then rammed it into his chest, twisting it as I
gritted my teeth and my eyes burned fiercely.
I felt the warmth of his blood upon my fingers as he gurgled, offering
only a weak struggle as I held him pinned to the tree. I hissed between my teeth,
snarling as his eyes dimmed.
His body sagged and I stepped back, releasing the knife. He slid down the
trunk and slumped at its base, staring lifelessly ahead.
I spat upon his face and took deep breaths, trying to calm myself. My
body shook with anger and adrenalin as I crouched and levered the blade from
his corpse, a small spray of blood loosed by its withdrawal.
Turning, I stumbled back to Chrissie. I fell to my knees beside her and
bent double as my stomach cramped with the agony of her departure. My forehead
rested upon her chest as I fought for breath, my eyes dry as I was stricken by
desolation.
I don’t know how long I remained that way, but the sound of numerous
engines on the highway caused me to straighten. I looked off through the trees
to my left and realised there was only one choice open to me; to finish the
journey north to Montreal and hope that safety and some semblance of civilisation
would be found there. But first, I’d give my daughter the burial she deserved.
The armoured car
led the way up the interstate through the half-light. The tanker followed with
the covered trucks flanking. A couple of hundred yards behind around seventy
cars were crammed into the lanes, keeping pace with the first wave ahead. The
rest of us hung back further, two of the police vehicles driving before the
float and the fire trucks to either side, the rest of the convoy strung out
behind.
David was seated in the driver’s seat beside me, having opted to stay
behind the wheel after the brief show and despite his brother’s taunts, Wade
driving one of the trucks that was escorting the tanker, Shane at the wheel of
the other. I stared out of the windshield as the shadow of woods darkened the
landscape to the east and a few low buildings came into view on the other side
of the road.
‘They’re part of the Champlain border complex,’ stated David as I peered
past him.
I nodded and looked ahead again, seeing the front four vehicles beginning
to pick up speed. Reaching for the stereo, I turned it on and took a CD from
the case that was resting on my lap
David glanced over at me curiously.
‘We’re going to play Chief Brody out,’ I stated, slipping the disc into
the player and selecting the right track before turning the volume up for the
speakers mounted on the bed.
He nodded to himself, a look of realisation dawning. ‘I meant to ask why you
left the generators running, but thought that maybe in the rush to head north
you’d forgotten.’
A slow guitar sounded and then suddenly thundered as the drums kicked in.
‘
Ooh, we’re gettin’ ready
,’ sung a rough male voice.
A guitar riff blasted from the speakers and the beat of the tune was
quick as we began to accelerate.
‘
Ooh, we’re gettin’ ready to rock, gettin’ ready to roll, gonna turn
up the heat, gonna fire up the coal
.’
The booths came into view in the distance, the highway splitting into
numerous lanes before them and a pair of tanks sitting ten yards apart on the
asphalt.
‘
I gotta keep that motor turnin’, I gotta keep that engine clean, I gotta
keep those tyres burnin’, I’ve got the best, you’ve ever seen
.
‘
I’m a heatseeker, chargin’ out the sky. I’m a heatseeker, and I, I
don’t need no life preserver, I don’t need no one to hose me down
.’
Tracer fire erupted from the booths and positions to either side of the
road as the soldiers stationed at the crossing opened fire. A deep thump
indicated that one of the tanks had fired and I looked ahead in anticipation.
The cab of the right-hand truck exploded, the roof ripped clean off and
sailing into the air, its dark silhouette against the clouds before it tumbled
back to earth.
‘Wade!’ exclaimed David as he watched the vehicle which his brother had
been driving veer violently away from the tanker. It crashed into a small
building by the highway, the sound of its impact hidden by AC/DC as the rock
tune continued to play from the speakers.
‘
I’m a heatseeker, chargin’ out the sky
.’
The second tank fired, the shell pinging off the front of the armoured
car as it raced on.
The rear of the remaining truck exploded, the canopy shredded and flaming
in the gloom as I scanned the area for the rocket launcher that had been fired
by one of the ground troops.
Shane managed to keep control as the small group of vehicles drew ever
closer to the tanks. The cars behind were closing the gap, a few of the passengers
returning fire from open windows and a couple even rising out of sunroofs with
guns blazing.
Brody violently turned the tanker to the left as it drew within one
hundred yards of its intended targets. A shell blew a crater in the asphalt
only yards away from the cab and I watched in bewildered horror, the vehicle’s rear
tyres skidding and juddering across the road surface as the back swung round to
the right.
The tanker began to slide side-on towards the pair of Abrams tanks, tipping
towards them with its forward momentum. A grin spread across my face as I
watched, the Chief clearly wanted to go out in style.
‘
You gotta keep that motor turning, you gotta keep that engine clean,
you gotta keep those fires burning, I got the best, you ever seen
.’ The
guitar riff and heavy drum beat roared from the speakers as the armoured car
and remaining truck peeled away to the sides and gunned towards the booths.
The tanker fell onto the front of the tanks. A huge explosion blossomed
and I winced as I stared out at the vivid flames, black smoke pouring into the
sky.
A repercussive boom shook the cab a few moments later as the song came to
an end and tracer fire continued to zip through the air at the crossing. The
armoured car crashed into the yellow bollards rising from the road in front of
the two booths on the far right. The front was jarred to a halt, the rear
lifting off the ground and the rest of the vehicle following, turning in the
air and sparks flying as one of the metal bollards scraped along its underside.
It sailed backwards momentarily, smashing into one of the booths, the roof of
the crossing collapsing on top of the vehicle as it came to rest in the
wreckage.
Shane tried the same tactic in the second truck, the vehicle brought to a
crunching halt as flames still spewed from the rear. The cars behind fanned out
as soon as they reached the numerous lanes of the crossing. Gunfire rattled and
cracked as the fire-fight raged.
The windscreen of an SUV shattered and it turned sharply. It went into a
roll, the passenger who had been standing out of the sunroof crushed as it
spun, blood and gore staining the highway. Another car burst into flames,
careering straight ahead and exploding as it hit the bollards.
We neared the crossing, the sound of a bullet ricocheting off the roof causing
me to duck down. More of the cars were falling by the wayside, some with their
drivers killed or injured, others bursting into flames or loosing control as
their tyres were shot out. It was total chaos, the flash of tracers adding to
the confusion.
An almighty explosion ripped through the air, the ammunition in one of
the tanks reacting to the heat as the two vehicles were cooked by the burning
gasoline. Its turret sailed through the air with a rain of shrapnel, the
remains of the fuel tanker shredded by the detonation. It thumped down amidst
the booths and silenced one of the machineguns that had been firing from their
protection as a chunk of the vehicle’s bodywork smashed through the windshield
of the float and showered the interior with broken glass.
We began to veer to the left and I glanced over to find David’s head
crushed and pinned by the torn metal that was embedded in the rear of the cab. I
moved over and slammed my foot on the brake. The float burst through the high
fencing at the side of the crossing and then came to a skidding halt.
A bullet hit the passenger door and I quickly scrambled over David’s
body, leaping out on the far side. Moving to lean against the wheel, I took
deep breaths, my pulse quick and perspiration cooling on my forehead.
I crawled under the vehicle and looked out at the battle taking place.
Only about a dozen of the first group of cars had managed to get near the
booths, the drivers having brought them to a stop side-on and only a few still
alive to continue the fight. The rest of the convoy was pulling into the
crossing, using the carnage of wrecked and burning vehicles for cover as they
came to a halt and people clambered out to take up defensive positions.
It was clear that the soldiers were losing ground, the tracer fire
diminishing as my followers pushed on, scampering between the wrecks and making
their way in every direction, pushing out from the centre to overwhelm the
troops. I looked back, finding a good deal of the convoy stopped on the interstate
before even reaching the crossing.
I smiled to myself. There were plenty of people left. Montreal would
still fall.
I sat with my
muddied hands upon my lap. I’d used the hollow where the root bowl had torn
from the ground as the starting point for Chrissie’s grave and now a small
mound of earth rested before me in the shadow of the pine’s upturned base.
Night was drawing in, the woods darkening as I sat motionless, a blank
expression on my face as I stared at the soil piled upon my daughter’s body.
The sounds of explosions and chatter of gunfire had barely registered in my
mind as I’d knelt and used the knife to claw at the ground, tears falling
silently down my cheeks. It had taken a long time, my fingers becoming darkened
by grime as I gathered up the broken soil before digging once again, the sight
of Chrissie’s red coat slowly becoming hidden by the earth breaking my heart.
By the time I’d finished, the only sound was the whispering of the woods.
The concealing shadows were filled with my irrational fears and the hush
pressed in as I wondered whether to spend the night by the grave, not wishing
to leave Chrissie’s side nor willing to risk running into the preacher and his
followers. Feeling increasingly unnerved, I decided to head back to the highway
down which we’d tried to flee. I’d spend the night in the pickup if it remained
at the roadside and in Stormy’s SUV if not.
I turned to the body slumped against the pine trunk and regarded it
thoughtfully for a moment. Standing, I walked over, my legs heavy and steps laboured.
Avoiding the man’s unfaltering gaze, I searched his pockets for the keys. Gratefully
pulling them from his jeans, I found some small comfort in the knowledge that I
had a functioning vehicle with which to make my way north.
I prized the rifle from his stiff fingers and slung it over my shoulder
before straightening. Looking back to Chrissie’s grave, I knew I couldn’t go
without leaving a marker, even though I believed it wouldn’t be long until
there was no one left to stumble upon it.
I went to the carryall and crouched beside it. Searching inside, I wasn’t
hopeful of finding anything suitable until I stumbled upon the framed
photograph from the kitchen windowsill.
Lifting it out, I stared at the lakeside scene that had been captured by
the lens. The smiling family behind the glass whispered of a life now gone, of
a dream which had faded. I briefly stroked Bob and Chrissie’s faces as I fought
back tears.
‘Essentials,’ I said softly as I placed it on the grave, remembering what
Bob had said was contained in the bag and a sad smile arising in response.
I picked up the bag and turned away, feeling the faces within the frame
watching my departure, staring at my back as I left the life I’d known behind.
Adjusting the rifle strap, I headed through the woods in the rough direction of
the highway and hoped I’d stumble upon it before night set in.
I broke from the tree-line half an hour later, coming to a stop on the
verge and seeing the two vehicles parked in the growing darkness a hundred
yards to my right, the pickup on the roadside and Stormy’s Range Rover ten
yards further as it rested on the verge by the woods. I walked along the side
of the road towards them, noticing the absence of birdsong, the eerie silence
causing the hairs on the nape of my neck to prickle.
I reached the pickup and went to the driver’s door. Finding it unlocked,
I threw the bag over to the far seat and climbed in. Locking both doors, I
rested the rifle across my lap and tried to find rest. The silence was oppressive
and I could not settle, the seat proving far from comfortable.
I pushed it back as far as it would go, stretching my aching legs.
Adjusting my position again and again, I found myself becoming more and more
agitated.
I put the key in the ignition and turned on the dash, watching the needle
on the fuel gauge barely rise. My brow furrowed as I stared at it. There should
have been far more left in the tank.
Unlocking the driver’s door, I leant out and looked back at the fuel cap.
It had been prized off and my gaze moved to dark tyre marks left on the road
beside the pickup. I glanced back at the fuel gauge and wondered when my luck
would turn, guessing that the gas in the SUV had also been siphoned.
I slammed the door shut and locked it again, reaching for the radio and
trying to find a voice in the darkness, but there was nothing but static.
I looked to the footwell on the passenger side, remembering Chrissie
curled in the Falcon. Climbing over the stick shift, I rested the rifle on top
of the carryall and moved into the dirty floor space. With knees drawn up, I
rested my head on my arm and closed my eyes, finding bitter comfort in the
tight confines, the harsh cosiness. The darkness grew deep and starless, the
silence an ache upon my eardrums as sleep slowly took me into its forgetful
arms.